Competition Voting

Thomas

On the 29th of October 1941, Winston Churchill said, ‘Never ever, ever give up’. Not only did this apply to the Allied forces in WW2 (1939-1945) but also to those of Soviet-occupied Lithuania (1940-1991). I am half Lithuanian; therefore, the 13th of January is a very special day for me as that is when the Lithuanians became the first in USSR to repeal the Soviet rule, although not by force, but by an action more powerful than anything…

This diary will reflect the horrendous events of the week in January 1991 that changed the course of many Lithuanians lives. It impacts me because without our fight for freedom, I wouldn’t be sitting here, half-Lithuanian, writing this. My story will reflect on the hard times through the eyes of a ten-year-old child, the same age my mum was when this happened. Even thirty-two years on, the Russians continue to attack countries, such as Ukraine, Georgia and Crimea. Some of the moments I will write about were real and based on my family’s experience, merely three decades ago.

10th January 1991

Thursday came like any other ordinary school day, here I was an eager primary school pupil. Despite the fire inside of me, the winter sky was glum and grey, with ‘cepelininis’ (traditional Lithuanian dish of an unattractive pale colour) clouds. At the time, I had no idea about the political ongoings of the world. My little 10-year-old mind was mostly preoccupied with the excitement of growing up and the only worries that took space in my thoughts were that of whether I will get my new shoes or perhaps even a new bicycle. However, my on-point mindset changed at noon as quickly as a strike of a lightning bolt. Without any prior notice, we were informed to pack up our gym kits and go home (the boy that sits next to me, Jonas, was particularly annoyed at that as we hadn’t done P.E yet). Despite being told to keep calm, I wasn’t fooled as the worry on teachers’ faces illustrated the seriousness of situation.

With a racing mind, I sped to my nearest safe haven - my grandparents’. As I ran, I tried to gather my wandering thoughts and make sense of it all but couldn’t as my heart was beating like a drum. When I arrived, my elderly relatives hugged me, as if never to let go, and after they made me a lovely cup of tea, my parents turned up at the door to pick me up. At first, I complained how long they had taken, but I wasn’t greeted with an apology, instead a stern look which told me to hurry up. I yearned for a cuddle to make the worry go away. Only a half hour after I was picked up, a loud bellowing sound wailed across the air. This was not your usual police, ambulance or fire truck, but something that made me know that whatever was going on was serious. Was the siren announcing a threat or death, or both? My mother and father told me to get in the car, and the moment we were on the main road, I noticed that there were barely anyone out driving and imposing army trucks moving hastily. The petrol stations had an absurd number of vehicles stretching as far as I could see. Eventually I was told to get out, I was sweating with the fear that a soldier had stopped us, but it was only to fetch something from the old car boot. Despite the reassurance, I still felt faint. I was confused when I saw that there was enough torches and candles in there to stock an entire shop! After thinking about it, I realised that they were for power cuts, so that was one less thing off my mind. That evening, as I lay in my warm, safe bed I wondered whether I would go to school tomorrow, when would I play with my friends again, is everything okay?

Through the thin walls to the sitting room, I could hear the voice of the news presenter announcing, ‘remain calm and peaceful,’ ‘please come and defend,’ and most worrying of all ‘the Soviet tanks are moving in…’ and then it hit me like a brick. This wasn’t wildfire or droughts as I had thought, but problems of another sort. President Gorbachev, whom everyone had thought the hero of the west, had launched an attack on my small, innocent and peaceful country. Red with anger, I swung my fist at the nearby wall, before cursing the USSR and breaking down into uneven sobs. My mind was tired, yet I could not drift off. I was upset, of course, but I was more shocked and disgusted. Ten months ago, we were rejoicing in freedom, but now it was hard to see the morning come. At around eleven o’clock, my mind and eyes gave way and darkness engulfed me. Quickly, I muttered a prayer, begging God for freedom, before collapsing on the soft pillow. Come the morning, I hoped the rest of the world would come to Lithuania’s aid in their hour of need. My last memory before falling asleep was a lovely one. It was of me back at school, passing exams and playing basketball. Oh, how I hope that happens.

11th January 1991

Waking up from soothing dreams, I realised that a new day had come, Friday, a school day, a day of joy because the weekend is approaching. But not today. Not by a long shot. Our flat is quiet, the morning rush that usually occupies my time before school is not there. As if to make up for my loss, God grants me a deafening silence. Usually, I appreciate quiet in the morning to help me concentrate and gather my thoughts and belongings for school, however this is misleading. A raging conflict inside me is confusing- ordinarily a day off school would be welcomed- but this is different. Knowing that my lovely school is not on - for how long, I don’t know - I shakily sit down and recite a morning prayer. Diary, I prayed- no begged- for things to return to the normal I have grown so used to in my life, and I have to say that my desire for this was so overwhelming that I shed a tear.

I hear a creek to signal that I am no longer the only one awake now and are greeted with shallow faces of my kind and caring parents, another sign things aren’t ok. What on earth is going on? War? It can’t be… such tragedies are things of the past, surely, in my times people talk and respect each other, people respect freedom and life. Alas, I am wrong, this enemy has no compassion in his heart, nor it has respect or decency. I hear a buzz and our old television has more news on. It sounds as if the poor presenter has been up all night - which he probably has, it was the same one as last night – news are thought provoking, therefore I invite myself to listen in… ‘premises are occupied’, ‘military manoeuvres commence in Vilnius’, ‘real bullets are used’, ‘four people with gunshot wounds are taken to hospital’, ‘three people severely beaten’, ‘there are women among the injured’. I am aghast, my head is spinning, I feel my heart will jump out my chest, my palms are sweating, fear paralyses my body. This is more serious than I ever imagined. This is WAR, but how can it be?! One day, a careless life of a ten year old - true, a life of shortages and limitations sometimes, but one of no guns, no death, no fear. How can anyone kill and beat our willingness to be free? My blood boils and a patriotic independent Lithuanian heart beats alongside the fear. My crestfallen family and I stay inside all day long to avoid danger. The last news I heard before falling asleep is that a Russian tank disregarded traffic regulations and crashed into a truck, severely wounding its driver. The truck was carrying toys…

12th January 1991

I wake up with one simple question in my head, will this nightmare ever end.

Saturday did come - proving the world kept going no matter what. The weekend, what was meant to be a sign of relaxation, but not for all the many devoted Lithuanians who flocked overnight to encircle and defend the main buildings in the cities. Even though I don’t want to, I force myself to listen to the news about army vehicles moving in the streets of Vilnius, there are more pictures of soviet tanks pointing at unarmed people. Frightening thoughts swirl around in my head- is this the end. Buildings that I remember only too well are engulfed by Russian soldiers. They carry guns, with faces as dead as our nights. Why are they threatening us I question myself. We don’t threaten them, and we didn’t upset them, did we? Broadcast on the news I see them carry things outside and chuck it into an enormous bonfire. What is that? Then I realise these are all the tapes, videos, archives of the history of Lithuania, and then it strikes me personally, the tapes of our basketball final that was filmed and broadcast on television is there too, only now existing in memory, so many memories burning. On these bleak and sorrowful days people are asked to gather and defend. Suddenly, a shadow of thought passes through my mind- DAD! I felt it in my heart, that it would be his choice. That’s how we were brought up, fight for fairness and freedom. All in a flash I’m given a hug and a kiss. I return a wave and shed a tear… he leaves through the door, and my hopes depart with him. Half-heartedly I park myself beside the television for the rest of the night and pray. It is only when I’m in bed that I realise that it was my closest friend Tomas’s birthday today. What a fabulous birthday gift, I wonder sarcastically. A USSR invasion, and our fathers missing, not knowing whether they are dead or alive. I pray yet again, wishing for my family’s safety, my friend’s safety and for Tomas to find his father too…

13th January 1991

Not knowing the exact time, I presume its after midnight and my prayer that I began almost 2 hours ago still occupies me. Some bread is made for me, a warm milk, the dead of night and no one is asleep. My worried and anxious mother is watching news close to the tv, closer to the news. Shaking with exhaustion, with thoughts of an ending unlike one I have ever dreamed of before, I rely on my almost pathetic one-way conversation with God. I was usually not one of faith, but now it seemed as if that was my only option. Is there comfort in this? I wonder whether I should use the last of my energy to get up and make some tea, but don’t, as I feel if I get up, I might tire myself so much that when I lie down, I won’t get up. Currently, my prayer has turned into a half beg and half sob. I feel that any indication that my brave father is safe then I have at least one less worry. Alarming news arrives from the capital - masses of Lithuanians singing with tears in their eyes, facing tanks and Soviet soldiers, I can barely watch, knowing that my father is in amongst that crowd, or perhaps he’s not, perhaps he’s lying on the cold hard pavement - I stop myself. From one worry to another, a moment comes that will haunt me for ever. My favourite news reader was on the screen, but she was unusually tense. Fear sparked her eyes, she was composed but frightened ‘They are in the building, they are coming,’ she squeaks, ‘they have guns, I will…’ the screen goes blank, the bleeping sound of an ending… Yet time never stopped.

But life goes on. More than thirty years ago a day in January came with no proclamation of what lies ahead. Through the eyes of a child, all the horrors came down suddenly and all has changed. But not to the 13 brave people that laid their heads during the January events and on bloody Sunday. This part of history will be hard to forget. And it wasn’t in vain. It brought us independence, and I am grateful for them. For a ten-year-old child of that time I would say to myself- the fear will lift, the shortage will end, but the pride and belief in peace will continue. The sun will rise. It is worth fighting for freedom.

Thomas, Gargieston Primary